


Challenge

by RachelErica



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Character Analysis, Chibi, Cute Kids, Cutesy, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Toddlers, Turtle Tots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5607966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelErica/pseuds/RachelErica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Splinter reflects on the pros and cons of each of his four toddlers and how not a one of them is always easy or ever the perfect little one. Turtle-tot fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenge

No children are perfect, and no children are always easy. Hamato Yoshi knew this fact first hand from his four three-year-old sons. 

His presumed oldest, Leonardo, was easy on most accounts. He never fussed too much about bedtime, didn't often pick at his dinner, and much like Michelangelo and Donatello, he loved bath time. Getting Leo to give up the television always proved to be a task, however. The second an animated character popped up on the screen, especially if it was his favorite program, Space Heroes, he was inseparable from that overrated box of colorful images.

“Leonardo, it is time to turn off the cartoons,” Splinter said to his son who was mesmerized by the beckoning action cartoon. “I must watch the news.”

“No-o-o!” Leonardo whined. “News stupid!”

“Little one, I have asked you not to use that word,” Splinter scolded, “it is not a kind word.”

“Don't wanna watch da news. Watch cartoon!”

Splinter picked up the remote and settled on the couch. “I think you have watched plenty of cartoons for today. Now you may come sit and join me, or you may go join your brothers and play. I am going to watch the news.” Splinter then proceeded to change the channel, much to the child's dismay. 

“Daddy! No-o-o!”

“I do not want to hear it, Leonardo.”

Leo stood up and toddled to his father. He reached up to the remote just out of his reach. “Give me!” he whined. 

Splinter gave the chubby, reaching fingers a warning tap. “No, no,” he scolded, “that is not polite, Leonardo. You do not demand things, especially from your father.”

Leo did not approve. He fussed and stomped his feet on the ground. “Daddy-y-y cartoo-oon!” 

Splinter proceeded to ignore the little turtle and turned up the volume on the TV. 

Dissatisfied with his being ignored, Leo decided to smack Splinter on the knee. “Give ba-a-ack!” Before the child knew what hit him, his father had him over his assaulted knee and was spanking him. Oh, how that child screamed. 

“Hamato Leonardo, you are never to hit your father, do you understand? I will not tolerate such disrespect!” With that, Splinter scooped up the screaming child and sat him down in the nearest corner. “You will sit here and think about what you have done.” Splinter returned himself to the couch. “All of that over a silly cartoon.”

Minutes later, the now pouting child silently returned to Splinter. 

“Leonardo, I did not tell you that you could leave the corner.”

Leo said nothing and crawled into his father's lap and then hugged his neck. “I sowwy, daddy. Hitting is bad...”

Splinter patted his shell. “You are forgiven, my sweet.”

His most temper-mental son, Raphael, was easy at bedtime. Heck, by dinner time, he could hardly keep the little fireball from dozing off into his plate. The challenge, besides keeping him from beating on his brothers, was getting him to agree to a bath. It's not that the child enjoyed the filth, he just hated to be forced to get clean.  
Splinter turned the faucet to shut off the water from the now halfway full tub. “Alright, boys, time to get in-” he turned to see only Michelangelo standing, waiting to be bathed. He sighed. “Wait here, my son. I must go find your brother.”

“'kay, Daddy,” Mikey grinned. 

Now that his sons were a little more independent and bigger he had been bathing them two at a time, rather than all of them at once. It took a little bit more time, but it made the tub less crowded, and thus more comfortable for his little ones. 

“Raphael!” he called. “My son, it is time for your bath! You must come out from where you are hiding!”

The first place he checked was their tiny bedroom that all four boys shared. “Raphael? Come, my son. You must get this over with.”

He looked around and saw two little green feet sticking out from under the large blanket the boys all shared. He smirked. “Just where could that little turtle be?” He crept up on the blanket and abruptly ripped it off. “I gotcha-” He stopped when the little one did not budge. His head was retreating into his shell and his back was steadily rising and falling again; he had hidden and fallen asleep that quickly. Splinter chuckled to himself and scooped his son up into his arms. “Come, Raphael, it is time for your bath.”

As if it were an air-horn blown directly into the little one's ear, the word “bath” shot his eyes wide open. “No-o-o! No, bath!” He stirred and thrashed in his arms, but he was no match for his father's martial artist strength. 

“You must get clean, little one. You may sleep afterward, I promise.”

“No bath!”

Splinter entered the bathroom to find Michelangelo already in the tub splashing around. 

“Michelangelo, you were supposed to wait until I returned. You know I do not like you in the water by yourself,” he scolded.

Mikey stopped splashing and frowned. “I sowwy, Daddy. I wike baf.”

“I know you do, my son.” He attempted to place the thrashing Raphael in the water with his brother, but the child clung to his shoulders like a spooked feline. 

“No-o-o!” he screamed. “No bath!”

“Raphie, baf fun! See?” Mikey splashed water on Raph. 

“Mikey! No!” Raphael, furious for having been assaulted with the dreaded bath water, leaped out of Splinter's arms and tackled Mikey in the bath tub. 

Splinter's sharp mind sparked an idea. Holding his body in the water, Splinter restrained Raphael. “Michelangelo, I need you to do a little job for me.”

Mikey clapped. “Mikey help!”

“Yes, you will be a big help. I need you to scrub your brother while I hold him still. Can you do that for me?”

Mikey nodded. “Uh-huh!” He grabbed the wash cloth and lathered it in soap. “Hol' still, Raphie.” 

Raphael protested throughout the entire cleaning process. He fought to get away from Splinter and even attempted to bite Mikey, which earned him a swift warning tap on the cheek from Splinter, but it was to no avail. The stubborn little one was doomed to be washed. 

Splinter removed Raphael from the top and dried him. “Thank you so much, Michelangelo.”

“Mikey do good? Mikey help?”

“Yes, my son, very good. You were a big help.”

Raphael proceeded to pout as his father dried him and sent him on his way. 

His brainiest, Donatello, was easiest when being schooled. Never had he seen a child so eager to learn and so quick to pick up on the things. The boy was three years old and could already read full sentences. He was a great help tutoring his brothers too. If one did not understand something, Donnie would jump right at the opportunity to explain it. Unfortunately, the child had an appetite much smaller than his brain. Getting Donatello to eat a meal was like trying to fit a square puzzle piece into a round space. 

“Donatello, it has been twenty minutes since your brothers all finished their meals,” Splinter scolded. “You must eat your dinner.”

“I'm not hungry,” Donnie whined. 

“That does not matter. It is not healthy for you to skip meals.”

“But it's yucky!”

“It's not 'yucky'. It is good for you.” Splinter picked up the chopsticks and put them to his son's mouth. “Open up.”

Donnie turned his head away. “No!”

“Donatello...” he warned. “Open your mouth.”

Donnie hesitated, but reluctantly opened his mouth. He cringed when the contents of his plate was stuffed into his mouth. He chewed once, and then spit it back on his plate.

“Donatello!” Splinter set the chopsticks down and sighed. “Okay. You have forced me to do this. For every five minutes that you have not made progress with your meal, I will confiscate one of your books until further notice.”

Donnie gasped. “No-o-o! Daddy, no!”

“Well you had better start eating then.”

Donnie pouted, but slowly complied. And after several minutes he said, “I'm full...”

Splinter inspected his plate and saw that most of it's contents had been devoured. “Okay, that will do it then. Good boy. You may go play with your brothers.”

Never had Splinter ever known a child to be as happy nor as affectionate as his presumed youngest, Michelangelo. This child would watch his toes wiggling and giggle for several minutes at a time. If he ever saw one of his brothers upset he would hug them, which usually had negative results if that brother happened to be Raphael, and he was always crawling into his father's lap uninvited or begging to be picked up, not that Splinter would complain. 

Perhaps the biggest challenge out of all his sons, however, was getting the warmhearted little one to go to bed at night. 

“Up, daddy!” Splinter heard the all-too-familiar little voice say from behind him as he walked from his sons' bedroom after just having tucked them in. He turned to see the freckle-faced little turtle holding his arms up with a wide grin on his face.

He sighed. “Michelangelo, no, it is bed time.” He scooped Mikey up and returned him to the small cot he shared with the other three. He kissed his cheek for the second time. “I love you very much and I would love to hold you, but it is time for you to go to sleep. Good night.”

Splinter returned to the dojo and sat on the floor to meditate before he retired to his own cot. Just before he began to fully slip into his meditative state, he felt a small form crawl up into his lap. He snapped back into reality and was not surprised to see little Mikey sitting in his lap smiling up at him. 

He sighed again. “My son, if I let you stay with me while I meditate, you have to promise me you will be still and go to sleep. Do you promise?”

“I promise...”

The child settled into Splinter's lap and Splinter began to meditate again. He ignored his son's occasional stirring. 

“Daddy?”

He pretended he did not hear him, hoping the child would not persist. He was wrong. He felt him tap on his nose. 

“Daddy...?”

He sighed. “What is it, honey?”

“Can I have cuppie?”

“No. Not before bed.”

“But I'm firsty.”

“You had plenty to drink at dinnertime. No more. I do not want you to have an accident. Now, please hush.”

Mikey groaned, but obeyed. The obedience, however, did not last. Minutes later, Splinter's whiskers began to twitch when he felt a small hand patting them and was followed by a fit of giggles. 

He grabbed the little one's hand. “Stop that.”

Mikey couldn't stop his giggles. “Daddy funny!”

Splinter sighed and decided he would give up on trying to mediate for the night. Holding the hyperactive toddler in his arms, he rose to his feet and returned him to his cot with his snoozing brothers. 

“I am going to bed, Michelangelo. Stay in bed and go to sleep, understand? I do not want to have to punish you,” he warned. 

Mikey frowned. Splinter melted a little and kissed his forehead, but stood his ground. “Good night.”

Mikey still frowned. “Night night.”

Splinter found he could not fall asleep. He pulled himself from his cot and returned to his sons' bedroom to check on his youngest. His ears perked when met with a soft sound.

“I love you...” a small voice sang. “...you love me...”

He peeked in the bedroom to find Leonardo sitting up next to Michelangelo, rubbing the little one's plastron and singing to him, while Donatello sat up on the other side, reading to him. All the while, Raphael snored on the opposite end of the cot. 

“We're a great big family...”

Mikey lie between two of his older brothers grinning at both of them with drooping eyes. The sounds of their voices combined lured him gradually into slumber.  
“...with a great big hug and a kiss from me to you...”

Splinter recognized the song from some TV show that the little ones, particularly Leonardo, liked to watch in the morning before schooling and breakfast. 

“Won't you say you love me too?”

Donatello closed the book, noticing Mikey's eyes had finally closed themselves. He lay the book on the floor and nestled himself back under the covers. 

“Night night, Mikey,” he whispered.

Leonardo kissed his youngest brother on the forehead. “Night night, little one,” he said before cuddling up under the covers himself. 

Splinter contentedly retired to his own cot. Their families' challenges were overcome...at least for today.


End file.
